Chapter 673: Chapter 673: Do I Have to Mention the Source?
Murdoch leaned forward, unable to touch the frame, just examining the painting as closely as possible.
"Charlie, where on earth did you get this? To me, it looks like a Picasso—a painting no one's ever heard of."
"Does it look authentic to you?"
"Hmm…"
Even as he contemplated the question, Murdoch couldn't tear his gaze away from the painting.
"Charlie, when it comes to artwork, you can't just determine its authenticity at first glance. I think we might need to call in an expert."
If he were to summon an expert for appraisal, there would have been no reason for Murdoch to visit. I shook my head.
"I would prefer someone who knows fewer people."
"Don't worry. My friend keeps his mouth shut. I've been able to buy various artworks before they hit the auction block through him. Is it okay if I call him?"
"Can he take responsibility?"
"Of course. I will take responsibility without question."
Murdoch rushed to answer, as if afraid I might refuse him.
It seemed he was even more curious about the painting's authenticity than I was.
He had promised to take responsibility, and since Murdoch had a deeper understanding of art than I did, I decided to accept his suggestion.
"Since Murdoch is taking responsibility, let's have this appraised for authenticity."
"Alright. Just wait a moment."
Murdoch got up from his seat and walked over to where the phone was, dialing a number.
A short while later, after the other side picked up, he spoke in an excited voice.
"Peterson? Yeah, this is Murdoch. Get over to my place right away. I have a painting I want you to appraise. And come on, I'm not wasting your time with frivolous chatter. Just come and see it. You'll know what I mean when you see it. Alright, hurry up!"
After hanging up, Murdoch returned to his seat.
Reading my expectant gaze, he spoke up.
"He's a friend who works as an appraiser and auctioneer at Sotheby's. He's reliable and won't spill any secrets. This industry can't afford loose lips; otherwise, no one would trust them with their auctions."
As if trying to reassure me, he continued speaking.
Or maybe he was just a bit too chatty for his own good.
"He's been around the auction scene since childhood. I can say his discerning eye is unmatched. His skill is recognized enough to reach executive status at Sotheby's from the ground up."
If he has worked in the field for long, he must have good judgment.
Nodding in understanding, Murdoch seemed relieved and gave a small smile.
But my faith wasn't in that guy; it was in Murdoch, who had introduced him to me.
"That's enough explanation. I trust you, Murdoch, and I trust your judgment."
"I'm glad to hear that! Now, I'll take a closer look at the painting."
Murdoch continued to examine the painting on the table as if it had captivated him.
Watching him, I gestured towards Manager Ma.
Manager Ma pulled out a jewelry box containing a necklace from his bag and handed it to me.
"Chairman, do you recognize this as well?"
Lifting the jewelry box, I placed it on the table and inquired.
Inside the box was a single necklace hanging from a torso mannequin.
"Hmm…?"
Murdoch shifted his gaze from the painting to the necklace.
"Oh, what a beautiful necklace! But…"
Murdoch inspected the necklace for quite some time. Then he tilted his head slightly, frowning.
"Can I ask where this was made? I've never seen a design like this before."
"It's probably a piece that hasn't been revealed to the world until now. But it seems you aren't too interested in jewelry, Chairman."
"What makes that necklace so special?"
"It's believed to be the necklace that Nikolai II gifted to his daughter. While no photographs remain, the design matches what's been passed down."
"What?! Nikolai II? Are you talking about the last Tsar of the Romanov dynasty, Nikolai II?"
"Yes. It's a necklace that was whispered about like a legend."
As I said this with a smile, Murdoch finally started focusing on the necklace.
His eyes looked as if they were radiating light. After examining the necklace diligently for a while, he shook his head.
"I can't be sure. The design and the gem definitely hold artistic value, but determining whether this was indeed the necklace gifted by Nikolai II is difficult to confirm."
I too was uncertain, and it was with a hint of doubt that I had shown it to Murdoch.
He was evidently knowledgeable about art, but it seemed he didn't specialize in jewelry.
"It's unfortunate, but it can't be helped. I was only asking out of curiosity."
"I'm sorry that this doesn't meet your expectations. But maybe the friend coming over could appraise the jewelry too."
"Then we should wait for him."
"In the meantime, I'll continue admiring the painting."
He really seemed taken with the artwork. Murdoch gazed at the painting with spellbinding attention.
How much time had passed? A knock sounded on the parlor door.
"Chairman, Mr. Peterson the auctioneer has arrived."
Murdoch continued to call out, never tearing his gaze from the painting.
"Let him in!"
The parlor door opened, revealing a British gentleman who appeared to be of similar age to Murdoch.
"Come on, I'm a busy man too. If you keep summoning me like this, I'll have to do something about it myself."
The man, dressed sharply like a gentleman, used rough language that seemed out of place for him.
"Haha, Peterson! Welcome!"
Despite the scolding, Murdoch rushed forward and embraced him in delight.
He was undoubtedly excited to meet the person who would appraise the painting eagerly.
"Ah, buddy! At your age, what's…"
Peterson, looking dismayed, turned to me.
"By the way, who is this young gentleman?"
"Ah, let me introduce you. This is Charlie, a businessman you should know well. He is basically the owner of Leeds United."
"Leeds United? The one that won last year?"
Murdoch nodded.
Truly, the British live and die by football.
The mention of being the owner of Leeds United sparked a new interest in Peterson's eyes as he looked at me with a favorable attitude.
"And he is also the businessman who brought the artwork to enhance your appreciation. You won't regret knowing him, believe me."
This was quite the embellishment. I quickly stood and approached Peterson.
"Nice to meet you. I'm Charlie."
Peterson shook my hand and introduced himself.
"I'm Peterson, working as an auctioneer at Sotheby's. It's rare for Murdoch to praise someone, so I'm quite curious about the items you've brought."
Having exchanged simple greetings, we moved toward the table.
Peterson examined the painting and necklace set on the table, narrowing his eyes.
"This is presumed to be a Picasso…"
As expected, he echoed Murdoch's thoughts. However, it seemed his attention was more caught by the necklace than the painting.
"Where did you find this necklace?"
I simply smiled without replying.
As Peterson sighed softly, he cautiously asked, "Can I touch the necklace?"
"Of course, as long as you don't damage it."
"I've been working in this field for years. So, no worries there."
He retrieved some equipment for appraisal and donned a pair of white gloves from his bag.
Murdoch, restless, nudged him along.
"Peterson, it's not the necklace that's the priority right now—it's Picasso's painting…"
"Oh, come on. The painting isn't the only thing worth discussing at the moment. Just wait a moment."
But Peterson easily brushed off Murdoch's urgings and gently lifted the necklace in his hands.
He donned a loupe over one eye and began his meticulous inspection of the necklace.
"Hmm…"
He sighed or gasped—hard to tell—while inspecting every inch of the necklace's front and back.
His delicate touch was more cautious than one would have with a child.
After a thorough examination, Peterson set the necklace down again, looking at me.
"Charlie, where did this necklace come from?"
"Do I have to mention the source?"
"For artworks, whether paintings or photos, if there's certainty about their existence, we don't necessarily need to disclose the source if the owner doesn't wish to. That's a rule in this industry."
He took off the lens from one of his eyes and placed it in his case as he continued speaking.
"However, this situation is different. While we have reason to believe it exists, nothing more than a description or rumors remain—no photos, no paintings. The appearance alone is only detailed in a few sentences. The source is crucial, Charlie."
Unlike Murdoch, who was merely an art enthusiast, the old man was a genuine expert.
Every word from the appraiser carried weight.
"Client confidentiality is a given. However, to give a fair appraisal of this necklace as authentic, I need to know everything. My appraisal equates to my career, and it's an act of putting my name on the line. Hence, I need to know the source to form an accurate judgment."
"Will you be able to identify what it is?"
"Isn't this the necklace said to have been gifted by Nikolai II to his daughter? After the Russian Revolution, its whereabouts remained unknown. I'm sure about that. The design, craftsmanship, even the size and quality of the diamonds—all of this indicates what the necklace truly is."
The assumption of it being Nikolai II's necklace came from the appraiser's lips.
I nodded and replied, "I'm relieved to hear that. I had my doubts, but it's reassuring to hear it from an expert."
"Now, please tell me the source."
"First, take a look at that painting as well. It came from the same place. After we finish the appraisal of that, I'll tell you the source."
As I gestured toward the painting, finally Peterson's attention shifted from the necklace to it.
He pulled out his lens again, intently examining the painting framed on the table.
Perhaps because I mentioned he could offer the source afterward, he scrutinized the authenticity with a heightened focus compared to when he inspected the necklace.
By his side, Murdoch kept trying to engage him in conversation.
"How is it, Peterson? Surely the painting is authentic, right? And it's never been revealed to the public before! I think so!"
Ignoring Murdoch's excitement, Peterson continued examining the painting.
After spending a considerable amount of time scrutinizing it, he finally set the appraisal equipment down and took off his gloves.
"This too is presumed to be an undisclosed work by Picasso. While I can't provide a conclusive appraisal until after thorough testing, including measuring its age… visually and based on my assessment, I believe it to be a work painted by Picasso."
"Is it real? Is this an authentic undisclosed work by Picasso? I knew my judgment was not wrong!"
"Murdoch, calm down. Just because it's Picasso doesn't mean every piece is authentic—there are plenty of forgeries out there. We can only become confident after a proper appraisal. You know that."
"I know that. But the moment I laid eyes on this piece, I felt absolutely sure it was Picasso. My instincts are saying so!"
Though Murdoch spoke with certainty, Peterson shook his head, indicating disbelief as he looked back at me.
"Will you please tell me the source now?"
I smiled and nodded. First, I had to issue a warning.
"I'll tell you, but I must be clear: I have no intention of disclosing the source to the world. I'm not considering selling either."
With a smile still on my face, I continued, "If the information I reveal now gets out, then one of you two here is the culprit. I've shared this with no one else. If that happens, I will find out who did it and ensure there are consequences. Do you still wish to hear it?"
Perhaps due to the chill underlying my gentle tone, both Murdoch, who had been eagerly examining the painting, and Peterson, who had been urging me for the source, became stiff with tension.
"Peterson, think carefully before you respond. Charlie is a man of his word. If you can't promise to keep the secret, it's best not to listen."
Murdoch wouldn't harm me since he was already in my grip.
But Peterson was different.
"You're not considering putting it up for auction?"
"That's still a work in progress. I could release a few pieces. In that case, I'll trust you, Peterson, to appraise and sell them."
"…Is that really all?"
"Once you hear the source, that's when you'll know everything naturally. Do you wish to hear it, or shall we leave it at that?"
Peterson hesitated to reply. Murdoch provided him with some assistance in making the decision.
"Peterson, I assure you that if you partner with this young, promising businessman, it will only benefit your career—it won't be a loss!"
Peterson's internal struggle seemed to drag on indefinitely.
After some time contemplating, he finally nodded and responded, "Alright. I'm listening. It's essential for an auctioneer to keep secrets."
His eyes displayed a resolute determination.
With Peterson's affirmation, I began to speak slowly.
"These pieces are personal collections of the Iraqi dictator, President Hussein."
As soon as I finished speaking, both men shouted in unison.
"The Hussein Collection!"
"Did you say the Hussein Collection?!"
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